


Door to Nowhere

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: The Stark Mystery House [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Disabled Character, F/M, Winchester Mystery House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-16 17:13:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16958169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: “If we can have a one-armed carpenter,” Barnes said. “We can have a lady doctor.”





	1. Chapter 1

There were not a lot of job opportunities for a female doctor. Amanda Newbury had known this when she'd gone to medical school. She had been informed of it by all of her teachers and most of her classmates, with varying degrees of scorn. It had certainly proven to be true. She had left the bustling East Coast for the western frontier in the hopes that scarcity would beat out sexism.

It hadn't been a rousing success, if she was honest. Which was why she was riding a bumpy carriage to a rambling house in the middle of nowhere to interview for a job with an eccentric gun manufacturer.

You could see the house and quite a distance, sprouting up from amongst the orchards. She stared the entire way up the drive. It had turrets and wings going in every direction, and a plethora of architectural styles all mashed together.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," she said as they got closer.

"Nope," the driver said, sounding amused. "That's _Et domus quam ædificavi mortem_."

She knew enough Latin to guess, "The house that death built?"

"That's the one. Mr. Stark has a flare for the dramatics."

“Lovely."

“You’re getting to go through the front door. Nobody goes through the front door.”

Amanda arched a brow. "Why not?"

He shrugged. "No one ever comes to visit."

This was a _terrible_ idea.

He pulled the carriage right up to a fancy porch and helped her down. “I’ll bring your bags around back and have them brought up to your room. Or would you prefer I wait?”

"I mean. . . I'm not technically hired yet.”

“Yes, but Mr. Stark is never on time for anything so you’ll probably miss the last train back to San Francisco.”

"Right." She stifled a sigh and started to climb out. "Then yes, have them brought up, thank you." One night in a crazy mansion probably wouldn't be the end of her. Probably.

She reached the front door, and it was opened by a very formal looking butler. “May I help you?” He had a British accent.

"I'm Amanda Newbury, I'm interviewing for the doctor's position.”

“Ah, yes, Dr. Newbury. We have been expecting you. I am Jarvis, Mr. Stark’s butler. Allow me to show you to the parlor.”

"Thank you," she said, a little surprised he hadn't tried to correct her. Everyone tried to correct her, insisting she must mean nurse, not doctor. As if she was too addle minded to know her own profession.

The parlor was very formal, and very, very expensively decorated. It would have done a Fifth Avenue mansion justice. “Mr. Stark will be with you shortly.”

"Thank you," she replied, taking a seat on the plumply upholstered divan.

Within five minutes, the door opened again, but it wasn’t Stark. It was a well-dressed woman with red hair. “Dr. Newbury. Welcome. I’m Pepper Potts.” The woman Amanda had been corresponding with about this position.

Amanda stood politely. "Nice to meet you, Miss Potts.”

“Thank you for coming all the way out here. He’s in his workshop with the door locked, I thought perhaps in the meantime you’d like some refreshments and a tour?”

This was the oddest interview she'd ever been on and she had one in which she'd broken the interviewer's fingers. "That would be lovely. It was a long ride out here from the town.”

“Good, good, come with me.”

She hustled for the door and Amanda scurried after her, through a different door than they'd come in and into a long corridor. The house seemed a maze, as they went through another hallway that took them briefly outside, and up and down some stairs. Pepper stopped and pushed onto a wall panel that was apparently a door, and they emerged into a bustling kitchen.

A redhead stood in the middle of the chaos, testing something from a pot and yelling orders. She saw then answer and nodded at Miss Potts. "This the new one?”

“The doctor,” she replied.

She nodded and pointed at the table. “Snacks."

“This is Natasha. She’s our cook.”

Amanda waved and the woman nodded again. "Thank you for the refreshments.”

They did a round of introductions with the rest of the kitchen staff. It seemed odd to her, a fancy household like this bringing her in the unused front door like an esteemed guest, and then take her to meet the dishwashers. Not that she minded. Regular people were better company.

“If you wait a few minutes,” Miss Potts said. “The carpenters and gardeners will be in for their afternoon snack.”

She nodded. "Would I be solely Mr. Stark's doctor or treat the whole house?”

“The whole house and the families that live on the property. One of our carpenters fell from the roof and it took two hours for the doctor to get here, and he didn’t make it. It’s part of how I convinced him to hire you.”

"He was reluctant?" From what she could see, he was employing the equivalent of a small town out here, a doctor probably made sense. Hell, a post master might make sense.

“Well, he has a heart condition that he thinks will go away if he just ignores it long enough, so I don’t entirely trust his judgement.”

"Ah. One of those.”

“He’s a pain in the ass, but the pay is amazing,” Natasha said, wiping her hands on her apron as she walked to the table.

"I can handle pains in the ass," Amanda said, sipping the tea cup Miss Potts had passed her. "I went to medical school.”

The back door opened and a group of men came in. They were pretty burly, like men who did heavy labor all day. One was so tall he had to duck under the doorframe. And one. . . seemed to have a steel saw where his lower left arm should be.

Natasha pointed at him. "What have I said about sharp objects in my kitchen?”

“I just came for a snack.” He gestured with the saw-arm and the blond man next to him deftly ducked losing an ear. 

“Take it off, Barnes, or you don’t get a snack.”

He muttered something under his breath, but ducked back out and returned a moment later without the saw, trying unsuccessfully to pin the now empty left sleeve up. The blond man he’d nearly chopped reached over to help him. 

When he was situated, they took their seats and seemed to notice Amanda and Miss Potts at their end of the table. "Did we get someone new?"

"This is the doctor," Natasha said before Miss Potts could answer.

"They make lady doctors now?"

She hadn't seen which of them had said that, and so addressed the group at large. "When the lady is stubborn enough.”

“Huh,” said Barnes’s blond friend. Then he held out his hand. “Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

She took his hand. "Amanda Newbury. Likewise.”

Rogers made the introductions around the table, but she’d probably need to get all the names again if she stayed. 

“If we can have a one-armed carpenter,” Barnes said. “We can have a lady doctor.”

"Stark likes oddities," Natasha said. "Not in a bad way. I think he sees potential despite appearances.”

“He hired Natasha out of an. . .unusual establishment,” Miss Potts said.

"I was a whore," the redhead told her. "We took turns cooking for clients. Stark really liked my pierogis."

"I don't know what that is," Amanda said. "But it sounds delicious.”

A bell rang somewhere, and everyone turned to look in one direction. There was a panel on the wall with a wheel that turned to display “7-SB”.

Miss Potts sighed. "Is anyone-"

A brunette who was close to busting out of her dress stood. "I'll go, I'm done."

"Thank you, Darcy."

"You want me to remind him he was supposed to meet the Doc?”

“Yes, please. Tell him I’m going to send her down to him, that should scare him.”

She gave a little salute and headed out of the room.

"What does 7-SB mean?" Amanda asked, pointing.

“Seventh quadrant, sub-basement,” Natasha said.

"I'm tempted to repeat the question."

"The house is enormous," Barnes said, munching a roll. "As you probably noticed. Stark designed this system where he rings for a servant, it doesn't just ring, it tells you where in the house he is so they can find him."

That was actually pretty impressive. “How can you have seven quadrants?”

“Welcome to the nut house,” he said in reply, and flashed her a grin. 

She considered mentioning that she had not, technically, been hired yet. But his grin was very distracting, and it was probably a moot point. Her bags had been unloaded, she had no other prospects and it was a long way back to the city. Plus, there were people here who needed her help, even if Stark was reluctant to have her. This many men there had to be a few wives. And that meant babies or the desire for no more babies. And for that, perhaps, she was uniquely qualified.

By the time she finished her food, Darcy had returned. “He said to send her down.”

Miss Potts’s eyebrows went up. “Into the basements?”

She nodded. "Said they might as well get it over with.”

With a sigh, Miss Potts looked over at Amanda. “Is that all right? I can walk you down.”

"Of course. Lead the way.”

In the hall, she said, “I promise I’m not taking you down there for anything nefarious. It is not at all like that here. No matter what the weird rumors may say.”

Amanda nodded. "I appreciate the assurances. In return, I assure you I can take care of myself.”

She stopped in front of an unassuming door and opened it to a descending staircase. “Good luck.”

Admittedly, that did look like the entrance to the lair of deranged murderer. But she'd come this far, and she did have her trusty scalpel. So she gave Potts a polite nod and started down the stairs.

The stairs doubled back, but did eventually end in a large room full of tables covered in tools and parts. It had no windows but was astonishingly bright. “Electric arc lights,” said the man on the other end of the room, peering through a magnifying glass at something.

He was younger than she'd expected, with only a light hint of grey at his temples. She went closer and spotted a faint scar above one eyebrow and noted the way his held his left shoulder indicated stiffness in the joint. She glanced up at the lights as she passed under them. "I've heard of electric lights. A neighbor of my aunt claimed she was having them installed but I left before it happened." She looked at him. "Mr. Stark, I presume?”

“You’re a doctor, right? Not a nurse? I told her I didn’t want a nurse.”

"I'm a doctor. I can show you my degree, if you want.”

“There’s no way I’d be able to recognize if it were real or forged.”

"Still, it might give you a false sense of reassurance.”

He went back to his tinkering. “So why did you do it?”

"Become a doctor?" He nodded, not looking up. She sighed and glanced up at the electric bulb again. "My aunt told me I couldn’t."

“Spite motivated. I like that in a person.”

"Does it work on you?"  
He lifted a shoulder. “More often than I’d like.”

She filed that away for future reference. "Miss Potts mentioned you might have a heart condition?”

He sighed with a great deal of drama. “It is not that big a deal.”

Which probably meant it was a big deal and he was ignoring it. "When was the last time you had an attack?”

“It comes and goes. Sometimes they are often, sometimes I go months between them. One of my builders died and that seems to have. . . Pepper said it was stress.”

That sounded familiar. "Flushed face, racing heart, shaky hands? Feeling like you can't catch your breath?”

“Yeah exactly. Doc in town says it’s a weak heart.”

"Mmm. Not exactly. I've seen it here and there. It's common in veterans of the war. Have you seen a lot of death?”

“I fought in the war, near the very end. Didn’t see much action and it was fifteen years ago. You want to talk about people who have seen some action, go up and talk to Rogers and Barnes. They were at Gettysburg.”

She filed that away for future reference as well. "I didn't ask if you were in the war. I asked if you've seen a lot of death." He looked at her sharply, and she continued, "I, for example, was thirteen when the war ended, but I can assure you, I've seen a great deal of death.”

“I bet doctors do that. It’s not a concept I’m unfamiliar with. I am the Merchant of Industrialized Death. It’s probably on a business card somewhere.” He gestured at the ceiling with his screwdriver. “This is a house built with blood money.”

"Yes, I saw the Latin sign on the post." She folded her hands in front of her. "In any case, I know how to treat it. And I can handle any injuries your builders or other workers acquire. if you hire me I will need some money to purchase a small apothecary supply to keep on the premises.”

“Anything you want,” he replied.

"Does that mean I'm hired?”

“Sure, why not? Go tell Pepper what you want to be paid. Don’t skimp, I like a happy staff.”

"All right." She had clearly been dismissed so she took a step back, starting to turn. Then she glanced back and said, "See you soon.”

“Got it, Doc.”

She smirked and headed for the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Two or three times a month, Bucky and Steve took the big wagon into town to pick up new supplies, both for their work and the house in general. Sometimes it was just lumber and plaster powder. Other times they had to make two trips to get all the furniture back. It was a nice change of pace from working on the house and he got to wear a real hand.

It had a leather glove on it to cover the metal fingers, but he could open and close them, something he found amazing.

Their freight manifest contained dozens of bolts of fabric, an enormous crate of marble they barely got onto the wagon, a toilet, mechanical parts, plaster, wall paper. And some other very weird stuff. “Steve, what in heck is this?”

He glanced at his clipboard. "It says 'apothecary goods.' Must for the new Doc.”

Bucky put the box of clinking bottles on the cart. “Ah, yes.”

"Guess it's good she'll be prepared for the worst," Steve said, eyeing the crate. "I'm surprised Stark hired her.”

“I’m sure he’s telling himself it’s for the rest of us.”

"I'm more than happy to reap the benefits. She's a lot prettier than my other doctors.”

Embarrassingly, he felt himself blushing. “She is.”

Steve's brow arched. "Oh. What is _that_ face?”

“Nothing, there’s no face,” he said quickly, putting the last crate on the wagon.

"There was totally a face," Steve told him, making the last checks on his list and heading for the driver's seat.

“I just think she’s pretty is all. Despite the scar.” She had a scar on her cheek.

"It's been a while since you noticed a lady.”

“I notice lots of ladies all the time,” he said defensively as he climbed up into the wagon.

"None that make you blush that particular color.”

Bucky sighed. “Okay. Maybe. But it’s probably a terrible idea I should put out of my head.”

"Why should you? You're a successful carpenter. For the first time in our lives we have enough money to show a girl a good time.”

“I don’t know. Habit, I guess.” He sighed. “She seems like a decent girl and that intimidates me.”

"She is intimidating," Steve conceded. "But you used to have your charms.”

“That was a long time ago. Last time I was with a woman I didn’t pay I had two arms.”

Steve shrugged. "She's a doctor. Maybe she won't mind.”

“Well, she certainly doesn’t need me bothering her while she’s settling in,” he replied, trying to sound firm.

"Still," Steve said, clicking at the horses. "I think you should bring her her potions.”

Bucky eyed him, aware he was being handled. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Steve grinned, clearly feeling he'd won something. Bucky rolled his eyes.

But he did take Doc her box when they got back to the house.

She set up her office on the second floor. Well, it was sort of in between the second and third floors and required you go out onto the second floor balcony, down half a flight of stairs, then back into the house. It was probably the most central room in the home, with access to several second floor parlors and two main stair cases. But it was a weird little room.

He tapped on the door as he came in and she looked up, peering over her glasses. "Mr. Barnes," she said, smiling. "I didn't hear the wagon come back.”

“The acoustics in the house are weird,” he said. “I got your stuff.”

"Oh good." She hopped up and came over to clear off a table for him to set the crate on. "They weren't sure how soon it would arrive.”

He set it down very gently. “What is all this stuff?”

"Most of it is medication, but there's also tools." She shifted the top off and reached in. "Microscope, test tubes, sample dishes. We're isolated enough I wanted to be able to run tests on my own. Eventually I might get the equipment to produce my own medication.”

“Tests? What kind of tests?”

"My main thought is testing blood compatibility if I need to do a transfusion," she said, lining up the bottles on her desk. "I just read a fascinating article in a medical journal about some experiments related to that.”

“Well, we’re no stranger to experiments around here.”

"Yes. I've gathered we're more or less living in one.”

He laughed. “Yeah. But it’s been fun. I’ve learned more new techniques working on this house than I can list.”

"That's a good way to look at it. I could see how dealing with Stark could drive a lesser man mad.”

“I think he’s slowly driving the guy who makes the blueprints crazy.”

She pointed to him. "That I could see.”

“He makes me a lot of useful and sometimes strange tools.”

"I'm waiting to cement my place a bit more before asking him for custom tools." She paused and her eyes wandered to his left. "If I may ask, did he make your arm?”

Telling himself not to feel self-conscious, he said, “He did. And all it’s attachments.”

"How many attachments does it have?”

“At least a dozen, though there are some I don’t use. He just makes them.”

She took a step closer, now clearly studying his hand. "Are they all construction related?”

“Most of them. Some are just hands. One is a feather duster but I think that was a joke.”

She laughed, and it made her look very pretty and young. "That sounds like what I've seen of him.”

“I wouldn’t be able to work otherwise. Who wants a carpenter who can’t even hold a nail steady?” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s worth putting up with the jokes.”

Frowning, she tilted her head. "People joke?”

“Apparently there is inherent humor in a man with pliers for a hand.”

The frown deepened. "It's only practical. And it must have taken a remarkable amount of practice and dexterity to learn how to use them that way. It must be a different muscle use and motion than holding it in your hand."

He found himself smiling. “That is true, but you are the first person to notice.”

"I usually am." Her cheeks pinked. "That didn't come out right. But I suppose most people don't think in terms of muscle usage.”

“This is the fourth or fifth version. Stark keeps making improvements. And I keep building his whacky house.”

"A symbiotic relationship. Benefits on both sides." She tore her gaze away from his arm to meet his. Her eyes were hazel, he noted. Brown with a little circle of green-gold in the middle. "If I do get into concocting my own medications, could I request a few specialized tables and such?”

He grinned. “You may request anything I can build.”

"All right then. We may be seeing a lot of each other then.”

He felt himself blush again. “You just give me a call.”

"I'll keep it in mind." She smiled softly. "It was good to see you Mr. Barnes.”

He tipped his hat. “Likewise, Doc.”

*

It took less than a month for one of the women in the house to come ask her about her opinions on babies, abortives and birth control. It was one of the maids, Darcy, who informed her that Natasha had been helping out previously, but had suggested coming to Amanda since she was a woman, and probably more sympathetic to such things than your usual doctor.

"The last doctor I went to told me pregnancy and childbirth were women's punishment for Eve's sin."

Amanda ground her teeth and handed Darcy the little tin with a sponge and vial of spermicide. "I ran into many men like that in medical school. Teachers and fellow students. We tended to have loud conversations. Try this. The liquid is a personal blend of mine, it shouldn't burn as much as alcohol and men prefer the taste to vinegar."

Darcy grinned. "I knew I'd like you, Doc. I'll tell the other maids you'll help with. . . whatever?"

"My commitment as a doctor is to keep people alive and healthy. The greatest risk to women's health is usually birth. If the ladies here would prefer to avoid it then I will do my best to help prevent it. And if they chose to have the baby I will do my best to get them through it safely."

"Thanks, Doc." She stood and stuck out a hand to shake Amanda's. "I'll spread the word."

Amanda watched her go, then turned to her supplies. If she was going to get an influx of female patients, she'd better stock up on various concoctions.

The next day was Sunday and building was halted for people to attend church and spend time with their families. It was an ideal day for the doctor to be off the premises. So, after breakfast, she told the head of house to ring the bell tower bell if she was needed and went hiking in the fields east of the house, looking for useful plants.

She ended up with some useful things, more than she expected, and had to come home when her hands were full. Halfway across the carriage yard, Barnes came jogging out of one of the outbuildings, “Hey, Doc!”

She tried to wave, but couldn't shuffle her plants to get a free hand. "Good morning, Mr. Barnes," she replied.

“Hello. I brought you something.” She realized he was holding what looked like rolled up leather it his arm’s clamp attachment. He unfolded it to reveal a leather apron full of pockets. “I was on the roof and saw you out in the fields.”

"Oh, that would be perfect." He held it still so she could stow some of her plants in the pockets and then helped her slip it on. "I can go get some more things now.”

He smiled, and looked kind of shy about it. “I thought you’d like it.”

"I do, thank you. I'm not taking this from one of your carpenters, am I?”

“No, no. It’s mine, but I have two.”

She had the vague suspicion he wouldn't admit to being inconvenienced even if she asked, so she decided not to push. "Well, thank you again. It will come in handy." She smoothed her hands down it. "What were you doing on the roof? I thought you all had the day off?”

“Sometimes I like to sit up there. It’s a good place to think.”

"I had a tree like that," she said, smiling a little sadly. "In the house I grew up in. Big oak tree, perfect for climbing.”

“I grew up in a city.” He gestured at the roof. “Seems natural.”

Having noticed the faintly familiar accent to some of his words, she guessed, "New York?”

He nodded. “After the war, Steve and I didn’t want to go back, so we got jobs with the Union Pacific and followed it west. You rolled over track we laid on your way out here.”

"Stark mentioned you were in the war. My father fought, as well.”

Barnes made a long-suffering face. “Steve signed up to be a flag-bearer. At time he wasn’t five feet tall and could have blown over in a stiff wind. So I had to go with him.” He sighed, expression growing serious and sad. “We were so young, and so stupid.” 

She resisted the urge to touch his arm in sympathy. She had wondered how they'd ended up fighting, since they hadn't looked that much older than her. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," she said sincerely.

“Thank you,” he said, just as sincere. He paused, then said. “A lot of people here have. . .pasts. Stark seems to collect them.”

"You're not the first person to say so. I suppose like attracts like.”

“I guess people are just trying to make you feel welcome.”

"Everyone has been very welcoming." Reactions to her had mostly fallen in the category of "relief." People we either glad there was a doctor now of site, or hoped she'd do something to "fix" Stark. "Even the people who've been skeptical about a female doctor.”

“You think you’ll be able to help him?"

"If he lets me. At the very least I can probably decrease the amount of nervous attacks he's been having.”

Barnes frowned. “I thought it was a heart problem.”

She bit her lip, aware she had probably just shared a bit too much about her patient. "It. . . presents as heart problems. But that's not what causes it. Did you know anyone with something called soldier's heart?”

To her surprise, he practically bristled. “That is not a nervous condition.”

She forced herself not to take a step back. "You hear nervous condition and you picture a milquetoast woman wringing her handkerchief and having a fit of the vapors. That's not what it should mean. It simply means a condition that has physical symptoms but no physical cause. Mr. Stark's heart pounds when he has an attack. He is not having an attack because his heart is pounding.”

Barnes crossed his arms over his chest. “So he’s crazy?"

It was her time to bristle. "I hate that word. He has a past. He's been hurt. Just not in a way that we can see it.”

“Doesn’t sit any easier when you can see it.”

"No, it doesn't. But if a man with one arm wakes up screaming from a nightmare, no one assumes he's crazy.”

He sighed, all of the air leaving him. Then very quietly he said, “Sometimes he does.”

This time, she gave in to the urge to touch his arm lightly. "If you need help sleeping. . .”

He flinched, and then said, “Laudanum makes it worse.”

Of course they would have just tried to drown him in laudanum. "There are other options. Gentler ones." She patted her pockets. "Give me a couple days.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He looked uncomfortable, as if suddenly aware of what he admitted to. “I hope you like the apron.”

"I do," she assured him. "Very much.”

“I’ll see you around,” he said, and then he turned and marched off. She watched how stiffly he held himself.

Amanda sighed softly. That had not gone well.


	3. Chapter 3

Talking about his nightmares seemed to have reinvigorated them, and Bucky had a week of terrible sleep before he got to thinking maybe Doc was right. He’d been avoiding her, of course, and so now felt like he needed to apologize before he could go talk to her.

He was out for a walk one night and noticed the light in her office window. It was easier just to climb up the face of the house to the room’s balcony than it was to wind through the weird inside hallways in the dark, and he had his hook attachment on.

Clambering over the balcony railing caused a bit of noise and he was glad he knew first hand how sturdy it was. The balcony smelled of herbs and he glanced up to find over a dozen little bouquets of plants dangling from the awning above, drying out. He squinted at the little makeshift collection of ropes and sticks she'd rigged up, already planning a more efficient rack he could whip up for her.

He could see her through the glass French door, hair up in a messy top knot, wearing an apron over a simple skirt and shirtwaist, sleeves rolled up. She had a little mortar and pestle and was enthusiastically grinding something up.

He knocked on the glass door, hoping he didn't scare her.

She stopped her grinding a looked up, glancing around the windows a moment, before spotting him at the door. She didn't give him her usual welcoming smile, but she did put her mortar down and get up, coming to unlock and open the door for him. "Mr. Barnes.”

“Hello,” he said. “I’ve been rude.”

Now her face softened a little. "I've been told I'm rather brusque, myself.”

“It’s just a. . . really hard thing for me to talk about.”

She nodded. "It's never easy to think about our scars." She stepped back, holding the door open for him. "Come in, I was just finishing something up before heading to bed.”

He followed her into the room. The gas lamps were burning, but dim. “You should ask Stark to run electric lights up here."

"I like the gas," she said. "The electric is too bright. Too artificial." She turned back to her mortar and, apparently satisfied with the grind, added it to a bowl of other herbs. "Though I suppose if I ever need to stitch a wound it would be handy.”

“it’s almost certain you will at some point. If not more.”

"Maybe I can expand. Make the room across the hall my patient room and keep this as a lab.”

“There are so many unused rooms in this house it’s not even funny.”

"Miss Potts essentially told me to take whatever I liked. I could take over this whole wing, given enough time.”

“And we’ll just keep building.”

"Sometimes people need a distraction. If he had less money perhaps he'd have picked up dollhouse building."

"It's helped me a lot. The building."

She nodded and looked around the room. He wondered if she saw the same things he did. They way the beams fit, even when they came together at an odd angle. The smooth lines of the floorboards and how he'd alternated the grain to give it some personality. "It's nice to have things to do," she said quietly, then looked back at her table. "I have a couple of things for you, if you're interested."

He nodded. "That's why I came up here."

That seemed to please her. She turn away from what she'd been working on, stretching up to take some things on a shelf. "I have a couple of different levels of sedative - not laudanum strength - depending on what you need." She handed him a little flannel sachet. "Tuck this under your pillow, the scents have been known to be soothing." Next came a jar of what looked like tea. "A cup of this about half an hour before you want to go to bed will ease your sleep. It won't knock you out, just help you sleep if you're already tired." Lastly there was a smaller vial of brown-black powder. "This is a proper sedative. Use the little measuring spoon I'll give you to put some in a drink. I don't recommend using it more than five or six days in a row as you can develop a tolerance."

"Thank you," he said. "Sincerely."

"You're welcome. Let me know if it helps and I can make you some larger batches."

He looked down at his medicines. “Does it ever get better?”

"It can. Time helps. Some find talking about it helps. As you said, finding things to do to occupy yourself helps. It's a scar. Somedays it will ache and flare up. Others it won't trouble you at all.”

He watched her a moment. “How often does it trouble you?”

She sighed. "On and off. It's better here than it was back home. It's worse in the winter, during storms." She glanced at the table. "I feel a bit restless tonight, hence the late night work.”

“Me too. Thinking about it make me remember it and then I feel worse.”

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I really didn't intend to bring up bad memories.”

“There was no way for you to know,” he said. He looked at his arm. “Well, maybe.” Then eh grinned at her to show he was teasing.

She smiled a little. "On that topic. I'm experimenting with some salves and balms. Would you me interesting in trying some? I imagine wearing the arm might irritated your skin sometimes.”

“Nearly all the time. Stark is always working on different cuffs, but it’s always sore after a long day.”

Her face lit up like a little girl's and she turned back to her shelves, returning with an armload of various pots and jars. He spent the next ten minutes listening to all the various herbs and plants she'd been experimenting with and what each of the salves was intended to do.

She was so animated he didn’t care that he couldn’t entirely follow all her explanations. He couldn’t get over how beautiful she was like that. And, apparently, brilliant.

"So I think these two would be your best bet. This one may feel tingly, that's normal, but if you notice a lot of redness or numb-" She broke off, looking at his face. "I got too in-depth, didn't I?”

“No, absolutely not,” he said immediately.

"No, I know the glazed look. It's all right, it happens all the time.”

“I like listening to you talk.”

Her cheeks flushed and she stammered a moment. "Oh. Well. Thank you. Good.”

“Is there. . . anything I can do in return? Anything you need built.”

She gestured around the room. "Lots of things. A proper drying rack for the herbs. More shelves. Maybe a box with lots of drawers to keep them organized.”

Bucky smiled. “I will see it done.”

"Thank you. It will make my experimenting much easier if I can get organized.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He ducked his head. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Thanks for the medicine.”

"You're welcome. Let me know how it works.”

That night he put the sachet under his pillow, and drank some of the tea. Maybe it was the medicine, maybe it was just the enjoyment of seeing her and having a new project. . . but it worked. He slept great.

In the morning he sketched out plans for a large cabinet filled with lots of tiny drawers.

*

"You want me to . . . eat dynamite?"

Amanda took a deep breath and looked heavenward for strength from a God she was fairly certain she didn't believe in. "Technically, I want you to drink it. But try chewing, see what happens."

Stark looked at the bottle of clear liquid skeptically. "And this will help my heart?"

"Recent papers had reported improvement in heart issues when on a regime of nitroglycerine.”

“Well, I did want someone who thinks outside the box.”

"You said you didn't want sedatives or anything to make you sleepy. This has none of those side effects. The most common complaints are dizziness when standing up and some nausea, both of which I have treatments for, if you experience it.”

“You know, the heart thing hasn’t killed me yet. Maybe it’ll just resolve itself.”

She crossed her arms and stared at him a moment. He stared back at her so she reached over and plucked something out of the thing he was working on.

"Hey!" he said.

"Don't worry. It might just resolve itself.”

“I need that part!” He held out his hand.

"Are you going to take your medicine?" she asked, holding the widget away from him. He could probably overpower her, but she was a little bit taller and probably a lot faster than him. Also, she knew nerve blocking techniques.

“Are you seriously holding my gear hostage?”

"I started out trying to prove a point, but if I have to stoop to hostages, I will. Whatever you may tell me or your servants or even yourself, you know your condition is not just going to fix itself. You wouldn't have hired me if you did. The attacks scare you, make you feel like you're dying and you know you have more to do here before you die. So you're going to do what I tell you, because in this, at least, I know more than you." She waved the gear. "Tell me I'm wrong.”

He made a consternated noise. “You’re not wrong.”

"Thank you." She handed him the scrap of metal. "Tell me if you have any side effects and I'll help you treat them.”

“I should hope so.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and let him have that one. "Twice a day," she told him, even though it was on the label. She turned and headed for the door of his lab. "I have more on order.”

“Thanks, Doc,” he said, quieter than she expected.

She hid her smile as she headed upstairs. None of her previous clients had been particularly cooperative. They were mostly people too poor to see a "real" doctor. But Stark took the cake for stubborn patients.

After a brief stop in the kitchen for a snack, she headed up to her office. Only to find a new piece of furniture tucked next to her desk. It was a tall, slender cabinet full of tiny drawers. Each drawer had a knob, and a spot for a label. The wood was beautiful, a local tree called redwood that they used to build everything around here.

She ran her hand along the top, impressed at the smooth sheen. She opened a few of the drawers, enjoying the scent of fresh worked wood. It was utterly beautiful, exactly what she'd hoped for.

Tearing herself away, she went looking for Barnes.

He was on the far end of the house, outside with his crew building what looked like outdoor stairs. She hung around the edges of the commotion until he noticed her and took a break to come over.

"I wanted to thank you for the cabinet. It's perfect.”

He grinned, making him look young. “I hoped you’d like it.”

"It's exactly what I wanted. Like you read my mind.”

He wiped his brow with his forearm, which had a hammer attached. “I like making cabinets. More than the external stuff we’ve been working on lately. So it was my pleasure to do it.”

She tried really hard not to watch the play of muscles under his shirt. Or the fact he still smelled sort of good, even while sweaty. "Well. You look busy. I just wanted to make sure I thanked you.”

“You can interrupt me anytime.”

That made her smile, then she noticed the rest of his team were watching them, with various degrees of subtlety. Rogers was openly grinning. "And I apologize for the teasing I'm sure you're about to get.”

He leaned a little closer to say, “It’ll be worth it.”

A warm shiver went down her back. "Perhaps tonight you could come by my office. We could discuss things. . . in private.”

He grinned wider. “I’ll be there.”

She nodded. "Have a good day, Mr. Barnes.” As she walked away, she could hear said teasing start right up.

She spent the rest of her day carefully organizing her herbs and labeling all the little drawers in her new cabinet. Darcy brought her food when she didn't come down for dinner. When it got dark she lit her lamps and debated running to her room to change before Mr. Barnes arrived.

She really needed to find out his proper name.

Then there was tapping on her window.

Feeling nervous, she brushed her hands off on her apron and went to open the french doors. He smiled when he stepped inside, and held out a bouquet of flowers.

"Oh," she said softly, taking it from him. "No one's ever brought me flowers before.”

“Now that’s a damn shame.” He paused. “Pardon my language.”

"I've heard worse," she assured him, rummaging for a container to put them in. "How have you been feeling?”

“Better than I have in a while. It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep will do.”

She smiled, setting the bouquet on the table in a mason jar. "I'm glad to hear it.”

“Seriously, no one has ever bought you flowers?”

"I was not. . . popular when I was a girl.”

He watched her a moment, then ventured, “The scar?”

It was hard to meet his gaze. "It made me a bit standoffish. With men.”

He sat in one of her chairs. “That sounds like a story you either don’t want to tell me, or need to tell me.”

"It's probably both," she said honestly. Leaning on the edge of her desk she crossed her arms protectively across her chest. "My mother died giving birth to my younger sister. My father died in the war. My sisters and I went to live with my aunt in Philadelphia. It was. . . very different from the farm we'd grown up on. I wasn't used to all of the rules women had to follow in the city - even as a teenager. I didn't realize what some men might assume about a woman out alone for a walk.”

She could see his jaw flex. “And someone assumed?”

She nodded. "I tried to talk to him, then I tried to get away. He had a knife. When I fought he cut my face and told me it would be quicker if I cooperated. I did for a moment, then remembered I had my herb cutter in my pocket." Reached over she plucked the little blade out of the pocket of her leather apron. "I keep it very sharp.”

“You stabbed him?” He sounded. . . proud.

"In the kidney. Then the throat." She tapped the spots on herself. "I think he thought I was trying to hug him on the first one.”

“Good,” he said emphatically.

"My aunt thought it was my fault and wanted to marry me off but that was the end of my interest in men for a long while. Then she decided I'd be a spinster and take care of her in her old age. My sister's husband paid for me to go to medical school and I didn't look back.”

“And now here you are.”

"Here I am." In the interest of him getting all the information, she glanced up and added, "There was a man in medical school - a fellow student - who was nice to me and promised not to gossip. We spent a couple nights together. I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

“Did you find the fuss worth the trouble?”

She shrugged. "The first time wasn't impressive. The others were pleasant enough. Nothing I couldn't do myself in private.”

He cleared his throat. “Ah.”

"I find you attractive," she pressed on, realizing she might have implied she wasn't interested. "And I like kissing. I liked the. . . intimacy of it. I found it made me feel less lonely. I assume that's why men go to professionals.”

“It’s an escape, like any other.” He smiled. “I find you attractive, too.”

Her cheeks heated and she returned the smile. "I would like to pursue that. This. Us.”

“So would I.” He held out his hand to her.


	4. Chapter 4

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Amanda stepped closer to him and took his hand. He tugged on it, pulling her gently, slowly closer, until she was in his personal space, until she was close enough to feel the heat of his body. He smelled really good, too.

He released her hand and she settled it on his hip. He was very warm under the soft cotton of his clothes. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb tracing the line of her scar. Then he ducked his head and kissed her. Amanda's toes curled in her boots and she tipped her head back, opening up to the kiss. 

His other hand wrapped around her back, pulling close up against him so he could kiss her better. Touch her better. It was very hot and tender at the same time. His hand was exploring her over her clothes and seemed to leave a trail of heat behind it.

When they parted to breathe, she peeled her hands off him and undid her apron, tossing it aside before going for the buttons of her shirt.

He caught her hands. “I want to make sure you are sure about this.”

She blinked. "Of course. I said I wanted to.”

“Okay, I just. . . It’s been a long time. I’ve been to a couple of brothels but since the arm I haven’t really. . .”

She studied him a moment, then went up on her toes to kiss him. "Are _you_ sure about this? We could just kiss. Or lay down and talk some more.”

“I am completely and utterly sure. I just worry my instincts are shot.”

Shaking his hands off, she started unbuttoning his shirt. "Your woman instincts?”

“Yes.” He looked a little embarrassed. “Also, do I leave the arm on or take it off. . .”

"I've been told I'm a very strange woman. Maybe your instincts are fine and I just throw them off." She undid the last of his buttons and tucked her hands under the cloth, cupping his waist. "The arm doesn't bother me, nor would the stump horrify me. How are you most comfortable?”

“I hate sleeping in it, but it’s useful for. . . activity.”

"You could take it off after. If it gets in your way we can pause.”

That seemed to satisfy him, because he nodded and kissed her again. This time, he made an attempt at her buttons, stopping only when she peeled his shirt down and ran her hands up his arms. The metal one didn't bother her a bit, and was just the right size to hang onto as the kissing started up again.

“I have a button attachment,” he murmured against her mouth. “Seemed presumptuous to bring it.”

She giggled. "Next time.”

“I sure hope so. For now I’ll need you to do the undressing.”

"I can handle that." She finished her buttons and shrugged her shirtwaist off, before sliding her hands under his undershirt. He lifted his arms, letting her pull it over his head. The prosthetic arm was held on by cloth over his elbow and a leather cuff laced around his bicep, with a strap over his right shoulder. She had to admit, the leather strap across his bare chest was pretty sexy looking.

Very rarely did the feminine part of her agree with the doctor part of her. Currently, however, both were quite fascinated with that leather strap. She ran her fingers along the edge of it, skimming his warm skin. She caught a whiff of the balm she'd given him in the hopes of soothing any skin irritation. Leaning close, she pressed a little kiss to his chest, below the cross of the strap.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice gruff. “Some lady gave me minty goop to put on my skin.”

"It's okay," she told him, tracing her fingertips along his sides. "It's edible.”

He shivered, and she felt it go through his whole body. “Good to know.”

Pleased at the response she drew her fingers up again. "If you need to sit, there's a bed over there.”

His breathing picked up, each inhale and exhale harsh. “Still got my balance.”

Kissing his chest again, she trailed light patterns back down to his waistband, finding the buttons of his fall. She nuzzled at him, catching his scent as she started to undo the buttons. He shuddered again when she slid a hand into the parting fabric to cup his cock in her hand.

“Amanda,” he whispered, and she thought it was the first time he’d ever called her by her given name.

She grinned and looked up at him, stroking him to the hilt and back to the base, slowly over and over. "I don't know your given name," she murmured.

He chuckled and it sounded strained. “James. Most people call me Bucky.”

She'd never been a fan of nicknames. Nor could she imagine herself calling out "Bucky" in the midst of her passion. "I'm going to call you James," she told him, kissing him again. “Bed?"

“Honey, anywhere you want.”

She gave him a little squeeze before sliding her hand out. "I should put my sponge in. Before I get distracted.”

He blinked. “Your what?”

"My sponge. A prophylactic to prevent pregnancy. So you don't have to pull out.”

“Yes, you should definitely put that in.”

Grinning at his tone, she stepped away, unhooking her corset as she did so. For a moment, she wished it was a bit fancier, but took solace in the face her chemise was embroidered. Stark was paying her enough she could order some pretty things if they kept doing this.

The sponges and spermicide were kept in a locked drawer in her desk, so she could keep track of who was using them and make sure they got regular check ups. She could feel James's gaze on her as she bent to unlock it and pull out a fresh set. Humming quietly to herself she took them over to the bed and untied her skirt, letting it drop, before working on the knot in her drawers.

“Do you want me to avert my eyes?”

"Only if it will dampen your ardor." She let the drawers fall and reached for the sponge, soaking it before planting a foot on her bed to insert it.

He came closer. “Not at all.”

She felt his breath on the back of her neck, distraction enough she fumbled a little before she got it properly seated. "Good," she said hoarsely, sliding her fingers out of herself. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, wrapping his good arm around her and sliding his hand up to cup her breast.

Humming in pleasure, she leaned back into him, feeling the line of leather press into her back and the hot, hard line of his erection against her ass. He seemed to have shed his trousers during her ministrations and now it was just them, naked and pressed together. Anticipation curled in her belly. His hand moved back down, between her legs. “I can’t tell you how much I want you,” he murmured.

Her breath stuttered in her chest as his rough fingertips glanced over her sex. This was already better than a couple of the nights with her med student. "I want you, too.”

He found her clit and stroked that, pressing it in a way that made her body throb. He took his time winding her up. She leaned back against him and his metal arm came around her holding her up. He kissed her throat and shoulder, stroking her with endless patience.

Amanda closed her eyes, breathing hard as the throb grew more intense, making her legs shudder. She heard herself whimper desperately as the first waves of orgasm started to shudder through her. He held her full weight, she’d have fallen if he didn’t. He stroked her gently as she floated back down, drawing out her pleasure as much as he could.

Finally, she pushed at his hand weakly, gasping, "Enough, enough.”

He chuckled, sounding proud of himself. “Do you need to sit?”

She nodded, letting him have his moment of triumph. “Uh-huh."

He turned them rather deftly, sitting on her bed with her in his lap. His erection pressed against her and she shifted so it nestled between her folds. She rocked against him and he groaned, lifting her a little. She leaned forward and with a little maneuvering he lowered her back to his lap, sliding inside her in the same motion.

“Fuck,” he gasped, and he didn’t apologize for his language this time. He arched up, encouraging her to move.

She rather agreed with the assessment, but didn't think she could speak. So she closed her eyes and rocked her hips, glorying in the feel of him sliding out of her, then driving him back in. He held her waist, tugging her against him as she lowered herself, fingers digging into her skin. As she relaxed and grew more aroused he seemed to go deeper, pressing on a particular spot inside her that made her whimper and moan. He pressed her clit in circles, and whispered, “Come for me, again.”

She gasped, "God, oh God," as her body clenched around him. Her nails dug into his thighs and she let go, a second, intense climax pouring through her. Everything went dim and fuzzy and she held onto him with her legs as she rode it out, half afraid she'd float away entirely. 

He followed her, and was still when she finally drifted back. He rested his forehead on her shoulder and tried to catch his breath.

Her fingers and toes still tingled and her body still throbbed in time with her heartbeat. "That was _remarkable_.”

He chuckled. “Thank you and you’re welcome.”

She eased off of him and he let her go. She only went far enough to crawl into bed, smiling when he flopped down next to her. "Thank you and you're welcome as well.”

He sat up after a moment, carefully taking off his arm. She could practically feel the tension in him while he did it. When he was done he set it down gently beside the bed, then stiffly leaned back onto the bed. Without a word she tucked herself into side, curling an arm around him. He took a deep breath, and slowly she could feel him relax.

She kissed his chest and closed her eyes. "You'll stay the night?”

“I’d like to,” he said. “If you don’t mind.”

"I'd prefer it." She took a breath of his scent. "I should turn the lights off.”

“I can do it,” he replied. “Just give me a minute.”

She pressed a kiss to his chest. "All right.”

He turned his head to kiss her hair. “Mmm. In a minute.”

The lamps burned down to nub.

*

For the first time he could remember, Bucky slept in. He woke slowly, becoming aware of the warm body tucked against him, and the tickle of Amanda's breath against his chest. He opened his eyes and looked down at her, still naked, curled against him, blankets tangled just under her breasts. That had been. . . one hell of a night.

He reached to rub her back gently, to see if she was awake.

She stirred and yawned, stretching against him. "Again?" she mumbled.

He chuckled. “I think we might hurt ourselves.”

"Mmm, humans are pretty durable. But I am hoping to be able to walk today.”

“That’s fair. We have time.” He paused, then asked quietly, “Don’t we?”

"Of course. I would very much like to repeat the experience.”

He’d be happy to stay here forever, but he could almost hear the teasing that was already going on, all the way across the yard. “I probably should get back.”

She lifted her head and looked down at him, bending to kiss him. "Have a good day. Be safe.”

“Maybe tonight we could have dinner?”

"I'd love to," she said softly, looking pleased.

He kissed her one more time, then got up to get dressed. Because he didn’t have his button attachment, she had to help him put on his pants and shirt.

"There." She smoothed her hands down his chest. "You look quite respectable. Not at all like you've been ravishing a spinster doctor all night.”

“Hey, it was only most of the night.”

"We can save all night for Saturday," she teased. 

He kissed her again, and then let himself out. He went the long way, through the house rather than the outside, so it wouldn’t be quite so obvious she’d had a man in her room. By the time he hit the courtyard he was whistling.

When he reached his crew there was a round of actual applause before his glare finally got them to quiet down.

"She finish you off or bring you to life?" Thor asked, grinning through his beard.

“A gentleman never talks,” he replied. But he was probably also wearing a stupid grin.

Steve slapped him on the back as the rest dispersed. "You look ten years younger.”

“It was a good night,” Bucky said. 

"I'm happy for you.”

“This is honestly the most normal I’ve felt in years. I even took the arm off.”

Steve's brows lifted. "You did?”

“I kept it on the first time, but then I took it off to sleep and didn’t bother to put it back on for any of the others.”

He had been about to take a drink of coffee from his beaten metal cup, but stopped with it at his lips. "Uh, how many times were there?”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at him. “A gentleman never talks.”

"Holy hell. I may need to reevaluate my assessment of the Doc.”

“Whatever you come up with will probably also be wrong. She is unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

"You really like her, don't you?" Steve asked quietly.

He ducked his head. “More than I can possibly say.”

"I'm really happy for you, Buck. You deserve it.”

“I admit I’m not entirely sure what to do next. I’ve never had this kind of relationship.”

Steve smiled and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "For now enjoy it. When it's time to take another step, you'll know.”

He didn’t find that entirely reassuring, but he decided he wasn’t going to let it ruin his morning. Today was going to be a great day.

It was, in fact, an excellent day. He saw her at the noon meal, looking as happy and besotted as he felt. The female servants gave them both smirks and knowing giggles, but he didn't care. At the end of the day, he went back to the bunk house the single construction workers used to bathe and change before dinner. 

He decided this time to pack up some of the attachments, and then put on the nicest thing he owned. He was probably very conspicuous, but he didn’t care. Everyone knew.

He went through the house to get to her room, because he was carrying the bag of attachments and didn't want to get his clothes dirty. She'd left the door open and he found she'd set up a little table with dinner for two.

He knocked gently as he stepped inside.

"Hi," she called from the little alcove where her bed was. There was a curtain that blocked it off from the rest of the room. "Be right out.” 

Wandering over to the table, he lifted one of the lids and saw Natasha had made something fancy looking that he couldn’t entirely identify. She made a lot of odd but delicious food. She’d sent it up in the formal silver too. This was such an unusual house.

"Oh good," Amanda said from behind him. "You dressed up, too."

He turned to find her standing by the curtain, dressed in a very pretty blue dress, long hair in loose waves instead of its usual braid. She looked young and very pretty.

He put his hand over his heart. “God, you are beautiful.”

Her face flushed. "You don't have to say that.”

“No, no I don’t.” He grinned. “Must mean it’s true.”

She blushed darker, but smiled a little and stepped closer to kiss him. "Are you hungry?”

“I am. As much as I want to let you distract me right now.”

"Later," she promised, taking a seat across from him. 

He went over to push her chair in for her. “Did your day involve as much teasing as mine?”

"Probably not as much. The women were far more interested in. . . details. You've been a source of speculation.”

He cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed. “What kind of speculation?”

"I think it boiled down to some version of 'does he look as good out of his shirt as he does in it?'" She gave him a sly smile. "I was complimentary.”

“I can’t believe they expected me to look good without a shirt. I’m missing an arm.”

She blinked, looking surprised. "But you're also handsome and clearly very strong. The arm wound is old and not likely to be unpleasant. Most women I've had occasion to speak with on such things find scars appealing.”

“Well. I appreciate the compliments.”

"You're welcome. I'm quite content to keep you a mystery to all of them.”

He watched her a moment, and then said, “I would like to court you.”

Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. "Is that. . . is that not what we were doing?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never actually done it before. So I thought I’d say it.”

"All right," she said with a little chuckle. "I haven't don't it either.”

He dug into his meal. “We’ll figure it out.”

"I think we have a pretty good start to it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We may do some more of these when we next feel historical, but we've got some new stuff we're working on first. Hope you enjoyed these little stories.


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